


The Lady and the Knight

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV), Once and Future King Series - T. H. White
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Comfort, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Kissing, Knight Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Other, Rescue, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round has been dispatched, along with the rest of the knights, to find holy relics. (He's seen them, they're not all that.) In the midst of his questing, he comes across Crowley, now in the guise of a fine lady. A quick rescue later, they're sharing dinner, a few bottles of wine and, inevitably, a bed. Normally it's too dangerous for them to be together, but on this one night, under particular protections Crowley has laid, who can resist temptation?Definitely not the angel who gives into temptation at every turn, I can tell you that.Featuring love confessions, plenty of sex, bitching about their bosses, and the fact that Aziraphale named his horse Crowley, which goes over better than you'd think.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 164





	The Lady and the Knight

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this crossover for _ages_ , hooray! The T.H. White series is so much sadder and richer and lovelier than I ever expected, and it's been nice to bind the two stories together. Based on what we saw on the show, absolutely none of this is rooted in any historical accuracy; it's pure story.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING
> 
> Please note the tags -- there are intimations of sexual assault being attempted towards Crowley (by an unnamed minor character), though she is quickly rescued, comforted, and supported by Aziraphale. Nothing is described particularly, but it is there, and Aziraphale is extremely careful to get her consent when they make love later in the story. Crowley has minor injuries, but they're quickly healed and/or treated, and she's soon being feted in the style to which Aziraphale has become accustomed.

Arthur had sent them out in search of holy relics, in a more or less transparent attempt to keep a large number of overly-armed and underly-bright young men busy. It had come just in time, Aziraphale reckoned; there was beginning to be fighting among the ranks, and of course that awful lot from Orkney. Nothing but sorrow would come from _them_ , but he'd been given no direct orders to do anything about them, so mostly he avoided all four of them.

So, in an attempt to avert civil war and keep the King's Round Table spreading chivalry, they had been dispersed. 

Of course, Aziraphale knew precisely where the Sangreal was, and the bits of the True Cross, and the spear of Longinus. But he felt a bit as though that were cheating and, anyway, none of it was all that terribly interesting. Still, in the spirit of fellowship and taking advantage of rather a lot of freedom to go foment peace, and considering that it was a pleasant spring, he decided to go out from Camelot and be a knight.

It had been some years since he'd last seen Crowley; when he'd been the Black Knight and made that foolish, foolish proposition. Perhaps  _Hell_ didn't check paperwork, but Heaven certainly did! Aziraphale was quite sure of it. All of his reports were counter-signed by a higher-ranking angel.

Well, nearly all.

Many of them, at least. And, of course, Heaven was  _very_ busy, especially these days. One couldn't go blaming them for delayed paperwork. 

So it was that Aziraphale carefully filed his latest report, in triplicate, and returned to Earth and to King Arthur's Court just long enough to accept the King's blessing. He liked Arthur; such a kind man, who was really doing his best. They walked a little in the gardens of Camelot before Aziraphale left, as he got in the last chance to really dress like a nobleman.

“I don't know if it will be enough, Sir Aziraphale,” Arthur said quietly, as they walked the fragrant paths together. “I have tried to hard to teach them that Might doesn't make Right, but all they seem to want to do is hit one another.”

“So it has ever been,” Aziraphale said, thinking of the Garden, and everything since then. “But I believe you are on the right path here, your Highness. Keep them busy, that's what I always say! Can't go starting a war if you're off questin' and all.”

Arthur smiled. “Did you know Pellinore, then?”

“I did,” Aziraphale said, mood lightening at memories of the dear old king. “A wonderful dining companion, what?”

Arthur laughed, and it gladdened Aziraphale's heart. The poor man had set himself an impossible task; it was good to hear him being joyful too. 

“He often spent time with my foster-father,” Arthur explained. “He was always very kind to me, and of course to his poor Beast.”

“He was a very kind man,” Aziraphale agreed softly. “A good kind of man. There are those out there, my King. Still.”

Arthur sighed. “I know you are right. I  _know_ , Sir Aziraphale. And yet. It's the ones who aren't so good I worry about.”

“Of course, my liege. But the Table Round – we _are_ doing good works. Fomenting peace and all. You must not lose sight of your victories!” He certainly couldn't tell the king that Heaven was pleased with all Arthur had done. First, because he had successfully hidden his angelic nature thus far, and did not want to give up the fun of knighting about should Arthur find out who he really was. 

And second because he hadn't exactly heard much feedback. Oh, plenty about his conduct, and his dress, and his enjoyment of feasts, but nothing much about what was actually being done on Earth, aside from some bland encouragement from Gabriel that he was pretty sure was meant for another angel anyway. 'Ixchel' wasn't really a misspelling of 'Aziraphale' by any stretch of the imagination.

Still. They were doing  _good_ , all of them! And yes, Hell was doing evil, or whatever Crowley was playing about at, but as Heaven's representative, Aziraphale was doing his very best to ensure that Good Prevailed. Which included bucking up a rather worried king.

“Of course. Of course – half the trouble is that there is nothing for my knights to do. But we live in a time in which a woman may ride from the Marches to Sussex alone, wearing her jewels, and not be molested.” Arthur smiled, looking out over the sunset and the fields around the great castle. “I have done some good. Not enough, but some.”

“That is all that can be asked of anyone, my king,” Aziraphale said gently. “And you are young yet. There are years still to calm the knights who can't get the hang of peacetime. So many more tournaments, and so many more quests. Arthur, your time isn't up yet.”

Arthur clapped a hand on his back. “I hope that I may see you at those tournaments, Sir Aziraphale. Talking with you always warms my heart. Go forth with my blessing, eh? If anyone could find the Grail, it's you.”

Aziraphale, who had in fact once handled the Grail while helping with some washing-up, simply smiled at the king, and bid him goodbye in order to go pretend to pack for his quest.

He set out early the next morning amid birdsong and the pale sunlight of spring, the trees around him caught between swelling buds and the softest of baby leaves. The dampness of winter had faded to a weak kind of warmth, but one that carried the promise of summer with it. (And cooking in one's armour, but one couldn't have everything, and anyway Aziraphale tended to hide out someplace quiet and comfortable, like the distant hidden crevices of the Cairngorms, during the worst of summer weather.) For travelling he wore plain but good-quality clothes; no need to be in full armour, though of course his sword was at his side. The armour was packed away, along with simple victuals and the basics required for camping. Not that Aziraphale ate poorly or slept on hard ground when he was travelling; only that one needed to keep up appearances. And as a knight of no known family, who had appeared one day and bested Sir Kay in a joust and charmed the Lady Guenevere to earn a spot at the Table, Aziraphale had to retain a  _little_ protective coloration. 

Besides, one of the advantages of travelling alone was that one could miracle up a fine campaign tent and four-course meal and no one else would be the wiser.

He rode through familiar countryside that day, nodding hello to the farmers he knew from this and that, but otherwise enjoying the peace that Arthur had brought to the land. The knights, clods that they were, might be itching for a fight, but the people around Camelot were happy and peaceful and appreciated the growth in trade that came with a lack of war. They also appreciated their sons not dying, though Aziraphale predicted a run on family farms in a few years, when suddenly inheritances would become an issue. A little bug to put in Arthur's ear, next time he was in Camelot, that.

Aziraphale made camp in a quiet corner of a field, his simple tent giving way to rather nice digs on the inside. Of course, he had no need of sleep, but his horse needed to rest and eat, good girl that she was. She had been a gift from Arthur, and Aziraphale had, in a moment of fondness for his adversary, named her Crowley. So he wiped her down and fed her and gave her a few treats, and then a few more for being such a good mount, and settled her for the night in thick, soft grass. Aziraphale himself enjoyed a glass of rather nice wine as he watched the sun set and nibbled on some fresh bread and cheese, and felt rather at peace with the world, all in all.

The days ran together like that; travelling and setting wrongs to right (although, if he was honest, not working  _terribly_ hard at that, wouldn't do to go looking for trouble really) and, more importantly, getting the lay of of the land, and how the people felt about Arthur. He occasionally even remembered to check in on their religious leanings, or attend a Mass now and again, just to see how the priests were keeping up. The art was so very nice, after all.

Aziraphale had made his way to the Forest Sauvage, pondering a visit with Robin Wood, when he heard the commotion.

“I'm warning you! You really, _really_ do not want to do this!”

“Shut up, wench! You can't do anything!” This quickly followed by a roar that made Aziraphale think that someone could still kick out and catch someone else's bollocks, but this was definitely a Wrong that needed to be set Right, so he urged Crowley off the path, picking her way through the undergrowth.

A sharp, hard sound, followed by a woman's cry of pain had him moving a little faster.

“Seriously! You _don't want to do this_!”

A snarled reply, a word that made Aziraphale go a little pink, and urge his mount on. They were so close, and he drew his sword to be at the ready.

“Halt!” he cried out as soon as they were in the tiny clearing. “It is I, Sir Aziraphale, and you will unhand this young – _Crowley_?”

For it was Crowley, dressed as a noblewoman, tied hand and foot. There was a heavy bruise already coming up on her cheek – for she was a  _she_ , unmistakeably – and Aziraphale tasted the taint of magic. Crowley really was bound, not just physically, but unable to use her demonic powers.

“Aziraphale? What the devil're you doing here!” A veil mostly hid her eyes, but Azirpahale couldn't miss Crowley's slightly indignant glare.

“I'm a knight! Rescuing you, I might add!” Aziraphale looked at the creature menacing Crowley with disgust. Of course, Crowley was a demon to be defeated at every turn, but that was _his_ job. And she certainly didn't deserve to be _hit_. Why, that was absolutely _barbaric_ , but that was humans for you all over.

“Pardon me, but what the bloody hell are you doing here?” the brigand demanded of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had by then seen the way Crowley's dress was ripped, and where there was blood and another bruise on her thigh, and he got  _angry_ . There was hereditary enemy stuff, and then there was  _evil_ .

“Getting rid of you,” he said, and snapped his fingers. The brigand disappeared, and Aziraphale immediately sheathed his sword and dismounted, coming to kneel by Crowley.

“My dear girl,” he murmured, and touched her cheek, healing the bruise immediately. A moment later he had the blessed leather straps off of Crowley's wrists and ankles, and winced. He couldn't do much to heal those, but he had some medicines with him, and could physick so they didn't hurt as much.

“Did he...” He nodded towards Crowley's bruised and bloody thigh. “And may I heal you, my dear? I don't have to touch you there, but it won't be as complete as from here.”

“He didn't,” Crowley said quietly. “But he was damn well giving it a go. You don't have to, though. I've got this one.” She touched her own leg, and Aziraphale watched the blood and bruise vanish, leaving pale, soft skin behind. A breath later, Crowley had mended her gown.

“Let me give you something for your burns, at least,” Aziraphale said, rising and going to his pack. He had made up bandages and salve – not for himself of course, but for occasions just like this, when someone might need a little help.

“Where did he go?” Crowley asked. “The man.”

“I don't know,” Aziraphale said. “Nor do I much care, I must say. Not anywhere very nice, anyway. Now then, I believe I have a bottle or two tucked away as well...ah, yes.” 

He settled on the ground beside Crowley, close enough that if she stretched her arm or leg out he could tend her, but not close enough to touch otherwise, giving her as much space as he could. First things first, of course, he poured them each a cup of wine. After a brief sip, though, he set his aside and opened the little pot of salve. “May I?”

Crowley gave him a funny sort of smile, but held out one delicate arm, the bruises and burns livid around her wrist. “What  _does_ bring you here, oh Sir Aziraphale? Finding maidens to rescue?”

“Well, literally, yes,” Aziraphale pointed out. He spread the salve quickly, and wrapped the bandage around it, trying to touch Crowley only when absolutely necessary. “Other arm, please, my dear. Thank you. We're all out on quests and things. Arthur's absolutely desperate to keep his trained knights useful, before they turn on one another.”

“That Orkney lot still trouble?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, you have no  _idea_ .” He gave Crowley a sideways look. “Or you might, actually. Are they your doing?”

Crowley snorted, and stretched out her legs when Aziraphale indicated she do so. “Good Satan, no, that's good old-fashioned terrible parenting combined with not a lot of sense. Oh, sorry,” she added, and shucked off her hose and slippers.

“Thank you. Ugh, what was on those straps?” Crowley's ankles, normally delicate and pretty, were swollen, the skin starting to ooze. “You poor thing.”

“Bible verses and a blessing from a bishop is my guess,” Crowley said. “Hurts like stink, I don't mind telling you.”

“Not after this,” Aziraphale said grimly. “I'll take care of those bindings for you, by the way. Take them into keeping and destroy them, I mean. Nasty things. Nasty _man_.”

“Tell me about it,” Crowley said, sighing when Aziraphale's salve began to do its work. “You're being awfully kind.”

“It's rather in the job description, you know,” Aziraphale said. “Angels being kind.”

“Is it?” Crowley asked, never one to avoid poking a sore spot. “Huh. 'Be kind to demons'? You sure?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Well, I couldn't very well let him...do what he was going to do to you,” he said. “Wouldn't be sporting.” Perhaps he could pretend Crowley was only being mugged for her belongings.

Crowley grinned. “ _Sporting_ . Right. 'Course. That'll go over great in your report.”

“I see no need to mention this minor interaction with a demon to my superiors,” Aziraphale said. “I've got much more important things to write about than _you_ , you know.”

“Oh, right, right, sure. 'Course you do.” Crowley leaned back on her elbows, the long sleeves of her gown covering the bandages on her wrists. She grinned at Aziraphale, and he felt his belly do a wobbly thing.

Silly. Must be something he ate. A bit of wine and a simple supper and he'd be right as rain.

He tied off the last bandage neatly, and retrieved his wine, taking rather a largeish sip. The clearing was small, not much bigger than the two of them and his horse, but a wave of the hand fixed that – not to mention put up a proper campaign tent, featuring a small but prettily-made table and two chairs before its canvas doors

“Shall we?” Azirpahale asked, nodding towards the chairs.

“Quite,” Crowley said. Aziraphale helped her up, ever the gentleman, but she didn't seem terribly worse for wear, though kept barefoot as he walked her the short distance to a surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Why do I think this isn't the usual issue?” Crowley asked dryly.

“Well, I do have _standards_ ,” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers to reveal rather a nice cheese plate. He topped up her wine, of course, and settled down happily. “I'll have to see to my horse in a moment, but we can have a bit of a snack first. And there's no need to suffer while on campaign, I always say.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Crowley said, and eyed the horse. “It's...tame, is it?”

“She, not it,” Aziraphale said. “And yes, she's quite tame, despite sharing a name with you.”

“You named your horse _Crowley_?” Crowley asked, mouth dropping open. “Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round, did you name your horse after _me_?”

“I – well, I suppose I did,” Aziraphale said, and ate a grape to buy some time. 

Crowley turned slowly to face him, mouth stretching into a grin that Aziraphale suddenly wished he could see far more often. “You did. You bloody did! You  _missed_ me!”

“Really now,” Aziraphale huffed.

“You did! You do!” Crowley all but cackled, and saluted him with her wineglass. “You – you _angel_.” She hooted and drank deep. “You _missed_ me.”

“Well, perhaps I did,” Aziraphale grumped. “You're a familiar face, after all.”

Crowley shook her head, still grinning. “As I live and breathe. Well, I don't, of course. Demon. But you know what I mean.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Plum?” he offered, and Crowley leaned forward, nibbling the slice of fruit from his hands. He gave her an exasperated look, but didn't pull away until his fingers were empty.

“Oh, don't pout,” Crowley wheedled, pouring him another glass of wine. Funny, that bottle should be empty by now. “You and your horse are very sweet.”

“I am not _sweet_ ,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, thank you my dear, you're very kind. I do have to see to Crowley – the horse Crowley – though. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

He shot out of his chair, definitely not thinking about Crowley eating from his fingers. She was just being  _tempting_ . It was her  _job_ .

Aziraphale brushed horse-Crowley down, reassuring her that she was a very good girl who had done a very good job that day, and of course giving her a nice apple as well. He mused that this was another thing the Crowleys had in common, though he reckoned his horse was rather more sweet-tempered.

Well, Crowley the demon could be kind. In her own way. Aziraphale could tell himself many things, but he couldn't quite pretend that he didn't rather like the old thing, and was pleased not only to keep her from harm but to have a companion for the night, and a good old chin-wag.

There was a sudden movement in the forest, and he looked up, hand going to his sword. Clearly England wasn't as peaceful as Arthur had believed...

“Stay there,” Crowley commanded, up and circling around him. She gave plenty of room to the horse, but stayed close to Aziraphale, her hands already glowing.

“ _I'm_ the armed one,” Aziraphale protested, when Crowley shushed him with a motion.

“There's something there,” she murmured. “Stay _back_ , angel.” She stood at the edge of the forest, glancing around, wings unfolding and spreading to hide Aziraphale, and his mount, from view.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Aziraphale said, but he kept his hand on the sword pommel.

Crowley hissed and the trees parted, his hands raised and flames crackling from them when a deer careened past, hooves loud on the ground. It leapt past Crowley, nearly across the little clearing, and vanished into the forest on the other side.

“Oh, goodness,” Aziraphale said and laughed weakly.

“I should never have let you –“ Crowley swore, and snapped her fingers, and Aziraphale felt something shift in the world, a bubble rise up that cut them off from the world. “There. We'll be safe. I'll take it down tomorrow, probably best you don't walk through it, angel.”

Aziraphale relaxed his arm and tasted the air. Nothing; nothing demonic, exactly. Whatever Crowley had done, the boundaries were far enough away that it couldn't hurt Aziraphale.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said gently. He staked Crowley-horse for the night, making sure she had plenty of good fodder in reach, and gently urged the other Crowley back to their little camp. She'd put away her wings, but her eyes were still wide and yellow, peering around her, the veil of course abandoned while it was just the two of them.

“Here.” Aziraphale changed the wine with a wave of his hand – something familiar to them, Roman now, and Crowley smiled when she sipped it. He liked to make Crowley smile.

“What _are_ you doing here, incidentally?” he asked, when they had settled once again.

“Oh, this and that,” Crowley said. “Tempt a priest here, tempt a nun there. Nothing really interesting.”

Aziraphale made a consoling sound.

“Yeah.” Crowley made a face. “No imagination, you know? Hardly a challenge. Not to, er, cast aspersions on your lot, but the priests around here aren't very hard to tempt.”

“No, I imagine not,” Aziraphale said with a sigh. “Of course, the Almighty's plan is ineffable, but I have trouble imagining that She wanted some of the church services I've been to recently.”

“You attend Mass?” Crowley asked, surprised.

“Well, not habitually,” Aziraphale said. “It's all a bit...unpleasant, with the transubstantiation, and I mean I was _there_ , and it didn't feel particularly holy at the time. As you know.”

Crowley made an agreeing sort of sound.

“But I _have_ dropped in on one or two, just to keep a hand in, meet some of the locals, see and be seen, you know how it is.” Aziraphale sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, Arthur is _trying_. He really is.”

“He's doing as well as can be expected,” Crowley consoled. “What with humans persisting in being, well, human. And I'm sure you're a good influence on the townspeople. The priests might tempt easy but the farmers are harder.”

Aziraphale lit up at this. “Oh, do you think so? I  _do_ try to find common ground with them, and it's  _so_ hard sometimes, we really don't have much to talk about.”

Crowley, who had watched Aziraphale try and fail to plant a tree properly for about a hundred years running before taking pity and walking him through the process, smiled gently at him. “I expect you find a way.” And she wasn't lying; when Azirphale was determined to be friendly and kind, well, you  _knew_ you'd been the target of some angelic goodwill. Even as a demon. It might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, but somehow Aziraphale's inherent awkwardness couldn't overcome a proper angelic blessing, and Crowley had seen him leave true goodwill, more or less, in his wake.

“Anyway, that's very kind of you.” Aziraphale settled back, smile truer and wider than Crowley had seen yet, and she tried not to think what might happen if it got out that she'd been kind to an angel. Well, Aziraphale wasn't going to tell it sounded like, and Crowley certainly wasn't, and they were in a big blank spot _gratis_ her powers right now. So perhaps all would be well.

“Shut up,” she said, for appearance's sake, and grinned, and drank her wine.

And so the evening passed; never drinking too much or too fast, but keeping the kind of gentle, happy feeling going as they ranged in topics from complaining about their bosses, to complaining about the others' boss, to bitching mightily about assignments and the stupidity thereof.

“Honestly, I know I'm the only field agent here, but you'd think they'd _listen_ to me a bit,” Aziraphale huffed. “England's wonderful, you know that, but there's so much else going on! Everything that's happening in the Americas is just brilliant, I _know_ it is --”

“But 'not your domain',” Crowley said in a snotty imitation of their general betters. “I know. It's bloody unfair, angel. Wouldn't mind so much if we had other decent field agents, but, well, _you've_ seen them.”

Aziraphale gave a little shudder. “I would not want Hastur representing me on Earth,” he said. “Not even to scare the populace into rejecting God, frankly. You're far easier on the eyes, my dear.”

“Why, thank you, angel.” Crowley toasted him, and drained her cup. “And you're...well, you're what angels ought to be.”

“Oh, hush, I'm hardly --”

“No, I mean it!” Crowley interrupted. “Mostly you keep out of everyone's way. And you're nice. And you heal people and comfort them and the like if they really need it, but mostly you expect 'em to take care of themselves, and each other.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Thank you. I think.”

“It's a compliment,” Crowley grumped. “Pretty bad one, I know.”

“No,” Aziraphale said gently. “It isn't. She gave them free will. It isn't my place to...to get too involved.” He made a little moue of distaste. “Also, they can be so dreadful. Much better to live a quiet life.”

Crowley smiled, but it wasn't sardonic. There was, maybe, even a little longing. “A quiet life. Yeah.” She shook herself a little. “All right for some,” she said cheerfully. “Right, angel. I'm off to bed.”

“Oh, my dear, I don't even _have_ \--”

Crowley cut off his embarrassment. “No worries, Aziraphale, already sorted.” She winked at him and grinned in the way that made his belly do a thing. Again.  _Tempting_ creature, really! “Come in and see for yourself.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “I will.”

“Not worried about your reputation?” Crowley teased, filling their glasses one more time and carrying them into the tent. “Thought you knights were supposed to be chivalric and virginal and abstemious and things.”

“That's only the ones going after the grail,” Aziraphale said absently, snapping his fingers to light the interior of the grand tent. It was bigger on the inside, roomy and draped in fine tapestries. Generally there was a comfortable chair and a pile of books, but now that had been exiled to one side, and a grand bed filled the centre of the room. “Oh, good. Truly, Crowley – make yourself comfortable. That _is_ me being chivalric, by the by.”

Crowley smiled at him and set the glasses down by the bedside, bouncing onto it. She winced when her long skirt caught one of the bandages, though, and Aziraphale was by her side in an instant.

“Oh, my dear. Be gentle with yourself, will you?” He fussed a little, and re-tied the bandage, while Crowley watched a bit agape. 

Aziraphale blushed suddenly but – well, it wasn't as if they  _hated_ each other. They'd been enemies long enough that they'd become friends of a sort. If it wasn't so dangerous, he thought they might be friends in truth. He  _liked_ Crowley. And she was very beautiful like this. Or in any way, really.

“There,” he said, looking up and his hands still around Crowley's foot. “A good night's sleep is what you need, my dear. I'll just read quietly in the corner, if that's all right with you.”

Crowley licked her lips, and he couldn't help but stare. Oh, he liked her so much. 

“Stay with me a little?” she asked. “Only – it's been a few years. And we'll have to go our separate ways tomorrow, and who knows when we'll see each other again?”

“Of course I'll stay. Quite right,” Aziraphale said, perhaps a little too quickly. “Er. I can bring a chair over – “

“Oh, lie down next to me,” Crowley said cheerfully. “Modesty's for humans. Besides, no one can see us or find us right now, not even your lot,” she added, as Aziraphale did in fact slip off his shoes and crawl into bed beside her.

“Or yours?” Aziraphale asked. “Crowley, if they knew you were spending time with me...”

Crowley smiled at him. “Or my lot. We're safe, angel.” Her hand was so close to his on the bed he could feel the heat off her skin. Her eyes were wide, and very beautiful. He'd never realized that before.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Good.” And he kissed Crowley.

It was not a kiss of peace, or of companionship. It was not the intricate rituals of kisses that they had learned and shared once before. This was a kiss of their time and place. It was romance; unmistakeably so, the brave daring of someone who was trusting their safety, however short-lived.

“Oh,” Crowley echoed softly.

“My dear!” Aziraphale leapt back, horrified at himself. “After that terrible man almost – after what he did to you! My dear, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have --”

“Oh, you bloody well should have, and you should again!” Crowley grabbed his shirtfront and Aziraphale literally saw stars at the kiss she gave him. “You're nothing like him, got it? Nothing at all.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I'm not talking about how you've bathed in the last decade. You're _gentle_ , Aziraphale. You wouldn't hurt me. I know that.”

Aziraphale half-smiled. “Have you met other angels?”

“I'm not talking about you being _angelic_ , you idiot,” Crowley huffed. “I know what God's like and I know what the rest of them are like from talking to you. I know _you_ , Aziraphale, as good as you know me. And you've been sitting all night in a protective circle _I_ cast, like I couldn't close it and trap you here for eternity.”

“But you'd never do that to me,” Aziraphale said automatically, and smiled when Crowley gave him an exasperated look. “Right, message received. Still. I could have handled that more nicely.” He smiled and took one of her hands in his, and kissed the back of it.

“ _Aziraphale_ , don't go being a chivalric drip,” Crowley whined.

Aziraphale just smiled, and turned her hand over, and kissed her palm, mouth soft on her skin.

“Oh,” Crowley said in a strangled voice.

Aziraphale kissed the base of her palm, and her bandaged wrist, then every fingertip.

“A-angel,” Crowley stuttered.

“Am I being a drip?” Aziraphale smiled at her, and curled her fingers, and kissed her knuckles softly before letting her hand go, to drop into her lap. “My darling demon.” He kissed her cheek, feather-soft. 

“How. How long.” Crowley swallowed. “D-did you want to do that?”

“Kiss you? I don't know,” Aziraphale admitted. “A thousand years? A few minutes? You do my head in, Crowley. But I adore you. And we're safe here. No one will hurt you for being kind to an angel.”

“Or you, for lo- caring for a demon,” Crowley said, changing mid-word.

“Oh, but I do love you,” Aziraphale said, not even sure he could give word to the feeling until he said it. For he _did_ love Crowley, very much.

“Ngk,” Crowley said, and she had to swallow hard. “I. You. Too.”

“I know, dear,” Aziraphale said, and patted her hand. “You're not very subtle.” He smiled shyly at the look Crowley gave him. “So. Er. What do we do...next?”

Crowley smiled at him. “I believe the traditional thing is – this.” And she kissed Aziraphale again, their mouths hot together, and trailed her lips down to his jawline, to the softness of his chin and his neck while she gently drew them both down to lie on the bed.

Oh yes, that was much better, Aziraphale managed to think as every single one of his nerves lit up. He was pressed against Crowley's body, very slim and hard in some ways that made his heart beat faster and very...not...in other ways that also made his heart beat faster. He wrapped his arms around her, moving slow, trying to telegraph everything he did, and she moaned a little and wrapped a leg around his thighs.

“ _Oh_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, and spent some time kissing her throat, nuzzling, giving a special extra kiss to the tattoo on her cheek, while she moaned again. “My darling, you are _gorgeous_.”

“So're you, my knight,” she murmured, and arched her back a little as Aziraphale, filled with unexpected courage, kissed the base of her throat, where her collarbones came together. “Aziraphale!”

“Yours,” he said, and meant it. “Your angel, your knight, anything you want of me, Crowley. It's yours.” Always, always, from the moment he'd sheltered her under his wing. It was so silly that he hadn't seen it before.

“My lover?” she asked, bold as brass, and he met her eyes. She was quite serious, and Aziraphale felt a little thrill at being wanted.

“I should like that very much,” he said gently.

“Angel, don't take this the wrong way, but are you a virgin?” she asked.

“No,” Aziraphale admitted, relaxing a little in the conversation, though of course their bodies stayed twined together. He did _really_ like talking to Crowley. “I've coupled with humans, from time to time. A nice way to spend the night.” He paused. “And a fellow angel, once.”

_That_ surprised her. “Really? What was that like.”

Aziraphale shrugged and looked down. “Not nice.”

“Hey. Hey, you listen to me,” Crowley said, ducking her head so she could meet his eyes. “This will be nice. This will be better than nice, I promise. And if it isn't, we'll stop, and find something that _is_ nice.”

Aziraphale smiled, and tucked his face into her throat for a moment. “I believe you. I assume you're not a virgin, by the way?”

“No, angel. Same as you, really – a few humans. Some demons, incubi and succubi of course.”

“How were they?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley thought for a moment. “Educational,” she finally settled on. “Good fun. Certainly a decent way to pass some time. But...well, it's hardly an act with much meaning to them, you know?”

“I know,” Aziraphale agreed. “With humans, even, there's kindness and a fellow-feeling.” He licked his lips. “And with you...you're very dear to me, Crowley. I should very, very much like to make love with you.”

“Fussy old thing,” Crowley said fondly. “I'm going to make you scream.”

Aziraphale sighed, and began to unlace Crowley's kirtle. “Honestly, you probably will, you terrible creature.”

Crowley cackled, and started in on Aziraphale's clothes too, but he didn't miss how her fingers shook, just a little.

“Crowley,” he said softly, and she looked up at him.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed her, sweet as he could make it, until her hand stopped shaking. And also he had gotten her half-undressed.

“Oi, don't race ahead!”

“Oh, please, you're the beauty here,” Aziraphale said, and got rather a flattering glare.

“You're gorgeous,” Crowley sniffed. “Don't pretend you aren't.” He was stripped to the waist now, and indeed, Crowley was giving him admiring looks and even more admiring caresses, her hand gliding down his chest to the swell where his belly began.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, and meant it. “Oh. Genitals preference?”

Crowley blinked. “You're not...already?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Ugh, it's such a bother. But they are rather useful for sex,” he added practically. 

“A cock, please,” Crowley said while he took advantage of her surprise to strip another layer off. “Not too big. But nice.”

Aziraphale smiled, and a moment later nodded. “Right, that's done. So does that mean you've already made an Effort?”

“Of course, darling.” Crowley grinned. “Feel for yourself.”

Aziraphale laughed, and did, just to show her a thing or two. He pulled the skirt of her gown up until he could touch her knee, slowly caressing the inside of her thigh, pale and warm. He slipped his hand up further, to where the skin was a little damp already, and brushed his fingertips against the soft place between her legs, watching her intently all the while for any sign of dislike or discomfort.

“ _Oh_ ,” Crowley sighed, so he slipped a fingertip between her lips, rubbing gently, exploring the wet folds of her vulva and finding her clit, giving it a soft little caress.

Crowley moaned again, back arching, and he was delighted. “You're so sensitive!”

“I'm so _horny_ ,” she complained, lifting one leg to spread her thighs. 

Aziraphale chuckled and added a few fingers, curving them and dipping shallowly into her. “Beauty. Will you be on top? I want to watch you fuck yourself on me.”

Crowley yowled, pressed into his touch, and met his gaze all at once. “ _Angel_ ?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Well, I do,” he said, a little sulkily. “You know I like the pleasures of life. You bouncing on my cock is one of those.”

Crowley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Right. Yes. Of course. Hedonist. Angel. Fuck  _me_ .”

“Oh, I'll do that too,” Aziraphale said helpfully.

“Now you're being a bastard on purpose,” Crowley said, opening her eyes again. “Right. Look. We're not even naked yet.”

“Well, you should have _said_ ,” Aziraphale said. He pulled his hand away, but before Crowley could yowl in protest again, held his fingers to her lips. “Taste yourself, please, and clean me up.”

“Lick your own fucking fingers,” Crowley challenged. 

It occurred to Aziraphale then that they were both bossy, spoiled lovers, and this could get...interesting.

Aziraphale smiled and did as she asked, though, taking his time lapping her wetness from his hand with obvious pleasure, and enjoying the dirty look she gave him. Finally he snapped his fingers, and took care of their clothes.

Crowley made a hungry sound as she looked at him, and he blushed because, well,  _really_ . He was all right at best, but this corporation was made for comfort, not admiration. And here she was, eyes wide and yellow and shining, looking at him like he was a dream come true.

“Aziraphale,” she sighed, and leaned in for a kiss, her body not yet touching his. “You are _gorgeous_.” 

Aziraphale gasped a little, because, well. Because the person he loved, loved his body, and that was always a special thing. The angel he'd coupled with had been visibly a bit disappointed, but here was Crowley, another nonhuman, and she looked like she wanted to eat him up with a spoon. He'd probably let her.

She drove the kiss, but he reached out, wrapping one arm just under her bum, across her thighs and pulling her close, her breasts pressing against his chest. Crowley's body was spare and slender, and it felt like it was made to fit in his arms. She was so  _delicate_ , for all he knew that she was terribly strong, but she folded so beautiful against him.

“Do you like?” she asked. “I can give myself bigger breasts, or hips, or whatever.”

“I love,” he assured her. “Don't change a thing, darling.” He found the pins holding her hair up, and released them, performing a little miracle to undo any braids so her hair was a sweep of crimson over her back, and his arms where he held her. “ _Beauty_ ,” he murmured again, and kissed whatever he could reach – a lock of hair, her shoulder, her neck.

She wriggled and gasped and kissed back, arching when he lapped at her throat and then hoisted her up a little higher, the better to get his mouth on her breasts, small and perfect as they were. He suckled gently at one nipple, lapping it to a sweet, stiff peak.

“Oooh, nice,” she sighed, hips starting to roll a little.

“Delicious,” he agreed, and laughed when she cupped his face and kissed the top of his head. “What do you want to do first, dearest?”

Crowley wriggled out of his arms and pushed him to lie down. “I want to ride you,” she decided, straddling his belly. She reached back lazily and found his cock, wrapping her thin fingers around it and giving him a thoughtful caress. “Oh, yes. I want your cock in me,” she said.

He rested his hands on her thighs, massaging slightly, and smiled up at her. “Well? Go to it, serpent.”

Crowley grinned and went up on her knees, moving backwards, then leaning over to kiss him.

Aziraphale gasped when he first felt her  _around_ him, around his cock, wet and warm and oh,  _oh_ , she felt so good, sliding down, easing him into her. Good, good, always be gentle darling. No pain here, not for either of them, and she slid down until her weight rested on him, and he should reach for her, play with her clit, but mostly he lay there and trembled.

“Poor angel,” she cooed, and smiled into his mouth. “Hold on tight.”

And  _God_ in  _Heaven_ , she sat up and it was all right that he was stupified, because she was massaging her clit with the fingertips of one hand and the other was playing with one of  _his_ nipples. Which was not fair at all, because it made him arch his back, and she liked that so much she lifted herself up a few inches, then dropped back and oh. Oh, she really hadn't been kidding about fucking herself on him, because that was  _definitely_ what she was doing, no mystery about it and Aziraphale moaned watching her, the sensation of her moving on his cock, the way she touched herself and moved and bounced and her breasts moved too. She was giving herself such bliss, and teaching him how to touch her, and he loved her with all his heart, sudden and sweet and powerful.

It pushed him into movement, caressing her thighs, then reaching up to cup her breasts in his hands, urging her to lean forward so he could touch her, thumbs on her nipples while she ground down onto him. She moaned a little and he stilled, but oh, it was a  _good_ moan.

“What can I do?” he asked softly. “Where should I touch you?”

She shook her head. “What you're doing...fuck, fuck, angel, your cock.”

He smiled and squeezed her breasts softly, enjoying the give, the light weight of them in his hands. “That's it,” Aziraphale murmured. “I'm in you, Crowley. You feel wonderful, your cunt's so warm and tight on me. I'm so lucky, to get to touch you. You're beautiful, you know. You're so very beautiful, and I adore you.”

Crowley made a raw sounds, and Aziraphale grinned. She loved being praised, and hated showing that she loved it, and he drew her down for a kiss, and so he could murmur further praise into her mouth. How she was beautiful and smart and kind. How she was a tricksy opponent and he loved that about her – she kept him on his toes.

He noticed that  _her_ toes curled as he said that, and grinned, rather proud of himself as he helped her moved her hips, rock back, and fuck herself on his cock while he pushed himself up the better to kiss her neck, her breasts, his fingers slipping between them and finding her clit.

She was shaking, his pretty demon, and Aziraphale cooed at her to keep going, to come, she deserved that. She deserved so much, but absolutely to feel that pleasure, she was so  _good_ at being a demon, look at her, she'd got an angel into bed and they were going to fuck all night long.

That seemed to push his Crowley over the edge; she quaked and wailed and shook and he caught her gently, easing them both down. He slipped out of her as she moved and they both winced, and he laughed and she made a sound like a sob, but went into his arms so easily.

“There now,” he murmured, stroking her back. “You're safe, Crowley. You're safe, and I love you, and you're so beautiful.”

“It's not fair,” Crowley murmured into his neck, holding onto him tightly. “You're too good at this.”

Aziraphale laughed softly. “You need a better class of lover.”

“So do you,” Crowley shot back, and kissed him. “You're wonderful, angel.” She sighed, and snuggled into his arms. “Gimme a minute. Be right with you.”

“Hush now,” Aziraphale murmured, stroking her hair. “There's plenty of time, darling. Enjoy your afterglow.”

Crowley smiled, and gentled in his arms – just a bit, but he did feel her relax, so he decided to count it as a win.

She didn't rest for long, quickly kissing a line up his throat until she found the soft spot just behind and below one ear that made him moan when her tongue flicked out.

“What do you want, darling?” she cooed into his ear, soft and sensuous against him. “Tell your demon.”

“Tempting thing,” Aziraphale murmured, and found her for a kiss. “I'd like to taste you. Then rub off on your thigh.” He smiled and kissed her throat, face buried in that cloud of fiery hair. “Get you messy.”

“Oh!” Her hips jerked, and he grinned. 

“You'd like that too,” Aziraphale discerned.

“Guess it'd be all right,” Crowley sighed, and Aziraphale laughed.

“Well, that's good.”

He started simply. Just kissing her, kissing her lovely mouth, enjoying the feel of her hands on his body. She caressed the softest parts of him with love, and it melted him a little, to be so obviously adored by so beautiful a being. Aziraphale kissed Crowley's shoulders and her chest and her belly and the wiry hair above her cunt and the soft points of her hips, and then buried his face between her legs, losing himself in the smell and taste of her, and the way her thighs wrapped around his head. He loved doing this, loving giving like this, and hoped Crowley knew.

Aziraphale was trembling when he tasted her orgasm, and kissed his way back up her body.

“Wait,” Crowley gasped. “I have an idea.” She rolled onto her side, urging him along, his belly to her back and oh _clever_ demon.

“Like this,” she said, “Between my thighs.”

Aziraphale, delighted, could only kiss her neck and her shoulders, nudging the little bumps of her spine with his nose.

“Any year now,” was her impatient feedback, and he laughed and slid his cock between her thighs, and started to thrust, their bodies already slick with sweat. She held her legs tight together, and he could hold her like this and caress her and kiss her throat and anywhere else he liked.

Aziraphale had always been fairly blasé about the concept of orgasms, but this was something special. It was his own dearest Crowley in his arms, and she was encouraging and vocal and loved being made love to, so he worked his hips and tried not to hold her too tightly as he wailed, face pressed into the nape of her neck, her hair filling his mouth as he spilled between her legs.

He gasped for breath, shaking hard, and found himself gathered into Crowley's arms. She crooned to him and rocked him a little, giving him a soft place to put himself back together after she'd taken him apart.

“There now,” she whispered. “There's my beautiful angel. I knew you'd come so nicely for me. Feel.” She took one of his hands and it slid between her thighs, slick because of _him_ , and he shuddered again.

“Oh, Aziraphale. A little too much?”

He nodded, and she tucked him even closer to her body, strong and steady. “There now. Sometimes it takes you like that. I love you, angel. Everything's going to be okay.”

Aziraphale nodded, still too much at sixes and sevens to lose his heart because against all reason and odds and common sense,  _Crowley loved him_ . She  _loved_ him. And now she was cleaning them up while he was useless in her arms. Tears pricked his eyes, and of course she noticed.

“Hey, what's this? Did I hurt you?” A real note of fear.

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Do you...regret...”

“No! No, never, ever,” Aziraphale said, eyes opening, tears spilling. “Crowley I love you. And you love me.”

“And that's such a terrible thing?” she was smiling, though, her thumb brushing away each tear as it fell.

“No one loves me,” Aziraphale tried to explain. “I mean. I don't...understand. _Why_?”

Crowley blinked. “Oh, angel. That's...” She sighed. “Bloody Heaven, not seeing what they have right in their lap.” She kissed him, slow and sweet. “I love you for lots of reasons. Too many to name. Because you're  _Aziraphale_ .” She smiled. “Do you remember, you sheltered me from the first rainstorm?”

“You get cold so easily,” Aziraphale said, and frowned. “Which reminds me.” A snap of his fingers and they were under lovely thick blankets, and Crowley snuggled gratefully close. “Silly demon,” Aziraphale chided. 

“Yes, but you've stopped crying,” she pointed out, looping her arms around his waist. 

“I was _hardly_ crying,” he protested. “Just a bit. Overwhelmed. As one gets.”

Crowley giggled, and settled so her head was over his heart, and he could finger-comb her long hair. “Right, right, of course. Aziraphale, this was  _fun_ .”

“Very much so,” he agreed, finding a snarl and gently, patiently untangling it. “You're a wonderful lover, by the way.”

“Thank you. So're you.” Crowley yawned and he pulled the blankets up higher over her shoulders. “Sleep now,” she mumbled.

“I don't sleep,” Aziraphale said, utterly bemused by this cuddly demon. “But you rest, darling. You did a lot.”

“Mmm _hmm_ ,” Crowley said happily, and dropped off to sleep, a surprising weight across his chest.

Aziraphale just smiled, and kissed her head, and settled in for a few hours of daydreaming and thinking, and watching her sleep.

Crowley slept until just past dawn, when the song of the forest roused her. Her eyes were in their truest form when she blinked them open; black on yellow, no sign of a sclera. Aziraphale found himself rather struck by them; Crowley really was very beautiful.

They breakfasted together and helped one another to dress; Aziraphale could mostly manage on his own, but it was...nice, to have Crowley's hands on him again, he decided. They were quiet with each other, but that could be chalked up to the peace of the forest. Surely that was it.

Aziraphale didn't purposely slow while he braided Crowley's long hair and pinned it up. He merely wanted to do a good job; a fine lady like Crowley was pretending to be wouldn't have a rats-nest of hair. That the soft locks curled around his fingers like Crowley enjoyed having her hair done was a complete coincidence.

A miracle tucked the tent away, taking up as much space as a rough bedroll would on Crowley-the-horse, and they stood in the clearing, still with that quiet that, all right, perhaps it was a bit awkward.

“I suppose we part here,” Aziraphale finally said.

“I could come with you,” Crowley offered. “I don't _have_ to tempt at court.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale was seized with the urge to say yes. To haul his lady up behind him and ride into the forest, her arms around his belly and her lips at his ear, teasing and affectionate in equal parts. They would talk for hours about anything, and stop again, and make camp, and then make love. Again. 

He shivered. “We  _can't_ . If your lot were to find out that you were consorting with an angel...”

“Aw, they don't care,” Crowley protested. She drew closer and looped her arms around Aziraphale's neck. “They won't even notice. C'mon angel, you and me. Just for a bit.”

“Crowley, _no_.” Oh, it hurt to tell her no. Aziraphale would give anything to just say _yes_ , to give into her, to make her happy. But – “My side does check,” he said quietly. “If they found you – it wouldn't be worth bearing, Crowley.”

“Oh.” Crowley dropped her arms. “No, no, I understand.”

“No, you don't. Please, darling – I had the most wonderful night with you.” Aziraphale's heart was actually breaking, seeing the sadness on Crowley's face. “Your protection – still up, right?”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale quickly closed the space between them, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, as hard and as true as ever he'd kissed before.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I _adore_ you. But we can't. My side...does not take things lightly.”

“You might be punished,” Crowley said.

“Among other things, yes.” It wasn't as though it would be the first time, nor the last, and Aziraphale, in his cowardice, hated punishments. They hurt, and were frightening, and left him feeling odd in the head. But what they would do to Crowley...no. He had to protect her. That's what he _did_.

“Can't have that, then,” Crowley said gently, startling him out of memories. “So we part ways.”

“For a little while,” Aziraphale said. “I'll be back by Christmas, at the latest.”

“In Camelot for Christmas, eh? I could do a an awful lot at a Christmas court.” Crowley grinned, a little bit of flash back in her eyes as she arranged a scarf to hide them, changed so that there was pupil and sclera. 

“I could do a lot to stop you,” Aziraphale countered, finding himself smiling. “Foul fiend.”

Crowley threw back her head and laughed, and lifted her arms, dropping the circle of protection around them. “Goodbye, then,” she said. “'Til Christmas. Your lot's rather busy about then, yes?”

“They've got one or two things on. I don't imagine they'll check up on me,” Aziraphale admitted with a smile. That was only a few months away. 

Aziraphale paused, thinking of something. “Crowley, have you even got a weapon?”

Crowley gave him an odd look. “I  _am_ a demon, you know.”

“And a fat lot of good it did you yesterday!” Aziraphale shook his head. “You foolish creature, travelling without even a knife! Here --” He took a dagger from his belt, still in its sheath, and handed it over. It was relatively small, but razor-sharp, of finest steel and with a gold-wire pommel. And it was entirely unblessed. “Please, carry it. For me.”

Crowley smiled, just a little bit. “Well, if you insist. If anyone asks, I'll tell them I cheated you out of it in a card game.”

Aziraphale matched the ghost of a smile. “I'm sure you will. Well. Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Goodbye, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale mounted his horse, patting her neck automatically; she was a good girl. He wanted to say something, to lean over and kiss Crowley, to make her know he meant everything he had said – he loved her, she was beautiful, she was his friend, and he worried over her and cared about her and everything. 

Crowley smiled and turned, and Aziraphale let himself believe that she knew all of that. And, even better, that she thought all of those things of  _him_ .

He turned as well before she could leave the clearing, and rode away. Just a few months until Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> Look I wrote myself an opening to a sequel, so yes, probably, although goodness knows when :) If nothing else, they still need to be properly bratty tops at one another. What could go wrong?
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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